Gothic architecture was never meant to be called gothic. The word was an insult. Barbaric. Primitive. Thrown by critics who couldn't understand how mortals built something that touched heaven.

The craftsmen didn't care. They worked for decades on structures they would never see completed. Anonymous. Unrewarded. Just stone, sweat, and faith. When the day's labour was done, they said it quietly. Grazie a Dio. Not out of piety alone. Out of relief that they had endured. That something real had been made.

The gym is the new cathedral.
The iron is the stone.
The rep is the prayer.

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